


Breakfast

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Bimbos, bagels and blowjobs. What more needs to be said?





	Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Breakfast by Kix

14 December 1998  
TITLE: Breakfast  
AUTHOR: Kix  
CATEGORY/RATING: M/K slash, NC17 for naughties.  
SUMMARY: Bimbos, bagels and blowjobs. What more needs to be said?  
DISCLAIMER: <dramaticsigh> They're not mine. Is it strictly necessary to rub my face in it *every* *time*?  
THANX: To my Aliciababy for marvelous beta and general gorgeousness, and to Te for encouragement on this *far* too long ago for me to admit....  
FEEDBACK: If you don't send me feedback, I am liable to stomp my little feet and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream.... Not a pretty sight. So, let us prevent this undesirable display by sending a little love to . Thank you.

* * *

==============  
Breakfast  
by Kix  
==============

The roadside diner had been a godsend. Rickety as it was, the air-conditioning worked and provided a welcome escape from the unbearable climate of a clapped-out old rental in a sweltering south Nevada summer. Peering through the murky glass of the window, Fox Mulder could see the worn, uneven asphalt shimmering in the distance. It was concealed slightly in a heat haze, like chiffon over satin.

//A pretty facade for a treacherous path. Now there's an analogy for life if ever there was one....//

In the small, pot-holed parking lot, he could see their Ford parked at an angle before a straggly plant of indeterminate species. Possibly a mesquite, but botany had never been Mulder's strong point. The long, spindly stems and flowers sent a claw-like shadow over the hood of the

//rust-ridden heap of generic Detroit junk//

vehicle, giving the impression that it was caught in the grasp of a fist.

Mulder felt like that car.

He felt trapped, ensnared, captive, taken....

//Worn out.//

And, surprisingly, he quite liked it.

He was rudely snatched from his reverie by a shrill

//Thank God I'm old enough to have lost the ability to fully appreciate the pitch of that...//

voice to his right.

"Can I get you boys anything?" the waitress asked, notepad held in fuchsia-tipped fingers, salmon-pink lips moving with speech and the occasional smack of chewing gum.

Mulder assumed his trademark lopsided smile, which crinkled the skin surrounding his eyes--tanned a shade or two darker over the past few months on the road.

"You got a breakfast menu there for us?" he asked, softening his voice. The low, rumbling tone took on a rich, honey-like quality. His companion let out a small sound of annoyance

//Heh heh heh....//

and Mulder's smile broadened into a grin that bared even, white teeth.

The waitress nodded, taking the laminated cards from under her arm and handing one to each of the men in turn, returning Mulder's smile with fervor.

"So." Mulder threw a discreet glance to the man opposite him, barely containing a chuckle when he saw green eyes narrowed with concern? Anger? Jealousy?

//Do I care which?//

"Is it *always* this hot around these parts?" A fan of his cotton shirt, already opened to mid-chest, for emphasis.

The waitress shrugged, tossing stiff blonde curls over her shoulder and cracking her gum noisily with the pink smile still plastered over her Barbie Doll

//I *knew* I recognized her from somewhere....//

face.

"A lot of things are pretty hot 'round here." She tilted her head to the side, swiveling on her stilettos.

Mulder fought back the urge to grimace, and chuckled instead.

"Yeah." He felt the icy glare from his left.... Just the reaction he'd been hoping for.

Barbie continued to smile.

"I'll have a toasted bagel." Alex Krycek tossed his menu across the table at the waitress, crossing his arms over his bejacketed

//What *is* it with this man and leather?//

chest.

She nodded. "Cream cheese or butter?"

"Butter," Alex snapped.

"Salted, unsalted or whipped?"

"Whipped."

//Not that there's anything *wrong* with leather.//

"And for you?" She turned back to Mulder who was trying to stifle a laugh at the unmistakable scowl that had claimed Alex's features.

"Just juice, thanks." He turned the menu in his hand with a sensuous twist of his wrist and the waitress took it with what she no doubt thought was a sultry, toothy

//Holy shit. It's Jaws.//

grin and sauntered away from the table, swinging her hips as she went.

Mulder blew an irritating strand of hair from his eyes and faced his companion. He was greeted with an unamused

//Ooh, he's *pouting*....//

frown.

Raising his eyebrows in mock innocence, Mulder asked, "What?"

Alex stared at Mulder long and hard, green eyes flecked with bright gold, pupils pinpricks in the stark light.

"What?" Mulder opened his hands to signify ignorance.

Alex pulled his sculpted features into a nauseating smile. "Is it..." he giggled, "always this hot 'round these parts?" He brought his thumb to his lips, playing with his mouth as he batted his lashes.

Mulder rolled his eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" Alex exclaimed.

"What the fuck was what?" Mulder maintained his virtue.

"You were *flirting* with the *waitress*, Mulder."

"What, I'm not *allowed* to flirt with waitresses?" Mulder reached across the table, taking the syrup container from the table and turning the jar, watching the concentrated reddish-brown liquid crawl along the sides.

"N..." Alex began to speak, but when Mulder heard the beginnings of what he

//Say it...//

almost hoped was going to be a "no," he stared at his companion with a you-have-*got*-to-be-kidding smirk.

Alex quickly regrouped. "I didn't say you're not *allowed*, Mulder. Just...."

"Just...?" Mulder prompted.

Alex was silent.

"If I didn't know any better...." Mulder rested his elbows on the table, leaning towards the younger man. "I'd think you were jealous, Alex."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were certifiable, Mulder," Alex countered.

"I'm *not*?" Mulder cocked his head to the side, and Alex leaned back, sliding his ass forward on the

//lucky//

plastic seat, hands folded on the table.

"Eh... I figure only the sane people need locking up."

Mulder shook his head, "Really..." he drawled. "Now that *is* interesting. How have you come to this conclusion?"

"Because they are all obviously disturbed," Alex whispered, as if sharing a secret.

Mulder dropped his forearms to the table, drawing invisible patterns over the back of his lover's hand with the tip of his finger. "They are?"

"Mmm-hmm," Alex turned his palm upwards, allowing Mulder to stroke it.

"Why?"

"Because I say so, Mulder," Alex murmured softly.

//Ohhh, fuck me.//

"Ah," Mulder nodded contemplatively, steadfastly setting aside his urge to pull the other man across the table and pillage that soft, blush-pink mouth. "So, if you said the grass was purple with yellow polka dots, it would be?"

Alex looked Mulder in the eye with mock seriousness. "Yes."

"Again, I must inquire, why?"

Alex grabbed Mulder's finger with his hand, yanking hard, then massaging the first joint with his thumb. "Well, when you kept screaming out 'Oh God' last night, I assumed you were addressing me...."

Mulder laughed and withdrew his finger from Alex's grasp, leaning back in the uncomfortable booth.

The two sat in companionable silence until a screech just short of earsplitting announced the arrival of breakfast.

Mulder closed his fist around the tall, slim glass of orange juice as he resumed his study of the parking lot.

//Eww, is that a dead porcupine?//

"You know, you really should start eating breakfast more often, Mulder," Alex said. "You want half of this?"

Bringing the glass to his lips, Mulder turned his attention back to Alex and froze at the image he was confronted with.

Alex, chewing a bite of toasted cinnamon-raisin bagel, full, shapely lips lightly oiled with melted butter...

...and a trail of the semitransparent liquid dribbling over the curve of his palm, the sinewy flexure of slender wrist...

Mulder gulped, nearly choking on the juice.

"Mulder?" Alex said through a generous bite of the doughy, ring-shaped roll.

"Mmm?" Mulder half-groaned as the sunlight shimmered over the contours of Alex's

//ravishing//

lower lip.

"You want some of this?" Alex asked.

Mulder took a breath, his tastebuds immune to the tang of the orange juice and his fingers numb to the slick glass in his grasp. The only sensation he was aware of was the sudden insistent hammering in his groin and temples.

//Want....//

"Yeah, Alex, I do," Mulder said, watching his lover's eyes widen as he took a quick glance around and began to slither underneath the table.

"Mulder, what are you--"

"Quiet, Alex," Mulder whispered. "Don't want people to think you're a lunatic talking to yourself, now, do we?" Mulder placed his hands on the other man's jeans-clad knees.

"Oh," Alex laughed, "Mulder, you are *evil*."

//I've never heard any complaints over my diablerie from you before, Alex.//

Mulder's hands slipped past Alex's knees and between his thighs, drawing his legs apart.

"Mulder," Alex hissed sharply, "Dammit, you *can't*."

"Shut your mouth, Alex." He found the jeans' fly, unzipping it quickly.

Alex's protests were no longer of note

//Were they ever?//

now that Mulder could see just how much the idea of this clandestine fellatio appealed to the other man. Alex's rapidly thickening cock rose to exposure through the opening in the front of his pants. Tugging at the waistband of Alex's jeans in order to allow himself more room to 'work,' Mulder lowered his mouth, brisking the tip of his tongue around Alex's crown.

The younger man drew in a sharp breath, his fists clenching on the plastic of the seat, his thigh muscles jumping under Mulder's hands and his hips lurching in a stiff little jolt.

"Relax, Alex," Mulder murmured, taking the other man's hands and pushing them upwards, indicating that he should rest them on the table. "One wouldn't want to...uh... draw attention to oneself at a time like this."

"Mulder." Through clenched teeth.

Mulder stopped. "Sshh, Alex."

"No, Mulder. A family just walked in here," Alex hissed.

"So?"

"So! They have children."

"Can they see anything?" Mulder asked.

Alex paused a beat. "No. But, Mulder, they could... it's possible... Mulder--"

"Well... they should be in school. Think of this as a social studies lesson," Mulder chuckled quietly.

"Mulder, I know sex education's progressed by leaps and bounds since I was in school, but... I don't think...."

"What were we saying about keeping quiet, Alex? You're a bad boy." Mulder pressed parted lips to Alex's shaft and tutted.

Alex held his breath.

Mulder ran his tongue a little way up, tutted.

Alex tensed once again.

Reached the tip, and tutted again, this time continuing with a swipe of his tongue over the slit, tasting bitter-salt, and then took Alex into his mouth.

And Alex exhaled, slouching in his seat with a long, boneless shudder.

//Ah, surrender.//

Mulder positioned himself more comfortably between his lover's legs, holding the other man by the waist as he drew more of the swollen flesh into the humidity of his mouth.

Alex's breath was of that forcible steadiness that, with each persistent inhalation, sent shivers of knowing along Mulder's spine. The controlled respiration was richly laden with arousal, and yet gave the illusion of normality to those less aware of Alex's current... situation.

Mulder had to admit, the man had tremendous self-discipline.

//Gotta admire his stick-with-it-ness.//

As reward for this impeccable behavior, Mulder took a little more of Alex's pulsing cock into his mouth, adding gentle suction to the slow, rhythmic stroking of his tongue.

A tiny, almost imperceptible sound from the back of the other man's throat. Mulder could almost see the softly parted lips; the heavy-lashed eyes and dilated pupils; the slight flush over smooth, clean-shaven cheeks; perhaps a twitch in the sculpted jaw; the jugular vein pulsing in a way that simply beckoned for a pair of lips and set of teeth to pay attention to it.

Mulder ignored the unremitting thrumming in his own loins, turned his full attention to Alex's. The younger man's pelvis was rotating in slow, restrained circles, the rhythm shattered by Mulder's sudden increase of pace.

A harsh suck and Alex almost bucked. Mulder heard clinking and fumbling on the table above him, then the sound of crunching toast.

//Oh, Jesus. He's... muffling... his... with the... the bagel....//

Mulder nearly cried out himself, and continued his ministrations with his eyes shut tight in concentration.

And Alex parted his legs even further, the toes of his boots holding the weight of each lean, shapely appendage as he slowly arched his body to avoid a sudden jerk and came.

Gripping Alex's waist tightly, Mulder swallowed, sucking and pulling at the other man's cock until he was completely spent. One last, tender lick, and Mulder drew back, immensely proud of himself.

//A job well done....//

After a moment, Alex's hand appeared from above the table, bearing a white paper napkin. Mulder took it, first wiping his mouth before tending to Alex. Mulder had licked him clean, of course, but the little gasp the younger man emitted when the stiff paper met his over-sensitized flesh was truly delicious.

"The coast clear?" Mulder asked.

"Yes," Alex whispered, clearing his throat.

Mulder slid back into his seat.

Alex stared at him.

Mulder tossed the balled-up tissue in his hand onto Alex's empty plate, and grinned.

Alex shook his head and laughed. "Thank you," he said.

//Yeah, damn right.//

"Any time." Mulder bowed, taking another sip of his orange juice.

"Just one thing, Mulder," Alex said, taking a surreptitious look around and reaching down to zip himself up.

"Yes, Alex?"

Alex leaned forward again. "You don't really like that waitress, do you?"

Mulder smirked. "No, Alex, of course not."

Alex sat back and Mulder downed the remaining juice before continuing: "There's only one brainless bimbo for me."

Alex scowled, but it soon dissolved into a mildly annoyed smile.

"C'mon, Alex." Mulder threw a bill onto the table and began to walk to the door, waiting for Alex to follow.

"You're in for some major punishment, Mulder, you do realize," Alex said, brushing past Mulder.

Mulder smiled wickedly. Yes, maybe he should start eating breakfast more often....

-End-

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